Winter Break
by The Seamonkey
Summary: With Ron in Romania over the holidays, all sorts of fun havoc occurs in and outside of Gryffindor Tower...but shocking discoveries and ruthless boarding school gossip force Harry to sort out his feelings before it's too late! HHr, rated T for language.
1. Lesson 1: Learn To Laugh

**REPOSTED! REVAMPED! REJUVENATED!**

**Disclaimer: PRIVATIZATION IS GOING TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD! So nobody should own anything. Including me, regarding this story.**

**A/N: This is a slightly edited version of the original Raine Is Crazy's story, "Winter Break". We work together on some of her stories, and we've decided to take this one off her account and repost it on mine. In the process, we've edited and revamped it a bit, fixing errors and suchlike.**

**We, again,apologise profusely that some of the characters are a mite OOC. It's really hard to write this kind of thing without that happening.**

**Oh, and one more thing: if you've decided to read this, PLEASE click the little button and review!We LOVE feedback, long or short. :)**

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Harry ran his fingers through his messy hair in frustration. It was altogether too noisy in the Gryffindor common room to concentrate on anything, let alone a relatively difficult Potions essay. He looked instead around the room, packed with talking students doing everything from playing Truth or Dare to wizard's chess to Gobstones. He could hear the occasional BANG from a group playing Exploding Snap, as well.

When Dean Thomas entered with a box of newly purchased Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, Harry threw down his quill. "This is pointless," he grumbled in disgust. Hermione glanced up and frowned at him.

"If you quit now, you'll be all in a rush later, and you'll come crawling to _me_ for help," she said in a warning tone.

"I'll be begging you for help anyway, o flower of knowledge and brilliance," Harry said resignedly, yawning and stretching. She rolled her eyes.

"What _are_ you going to do instead, then, if you won't do your homework?"

"I don't know about you, but I've got to get out of this room. I'm going for a walk," Harry said decidedly, getting up and stretching. "You coming?"

"No," Hermione sniffed. "I simply must finish this paper on the Disillusionment charm before I do anything else."

"Fine, I'll go alone. It's not exactly safe, though," Harry said in an offhand voice meant to annoy her.

"Get Ron to—oh, yeah ..."

"Ron's in Romania with his family for the break, Hermione," Harry spoke slowly, as though he was talking to a small child, then grinned. Hermione glared and rolled her eyes.

"I _know_," she growled, unable to keep a half-smile off her face. Harry laughed.

"Come on then, we still have almost two weeks to do homework. Besides, can you _really_ concentrate in all this?" He swept his arm around the room, taking in the chaos and noise. Hermione nodded stubbornly.

Harry shrugged. "Do what you want. See you later," and he walked towards the portrait hole.

Hermione glanced around at the crowded room, looked down at her books, sighed, and stood up. "Oh, hang on, I'll come," she said, rolling her eyes again. Harry smiled.

"Good. What time's curfew again?"

"Nine, Harry."

"What time is it now?"

"Eight fifteen."

"Excellent! Let's go outside," Harry said delightedly. Hermione hung back, hesitating.

"I don't know...it's after dark, Harry. If we're caught we'll get detention."

"No we won't," Harry scoffed. "We won't go out of sight of the castle. Besides, they won't be patrolling the grounds or anything."

She was still reluctant. "You never know what might happen. You remember the Triwiz—"

Harry groaned. "We're not going to find a portkey buried in the snow that'll take us to Voldemort's lair, Hermione. Can't you spare me _one_ night of thinking about him?"

Hermione bit her lip. "But it's cold out," she said in a last-ditch attempt to stay inside. Harry laughed.

"Bring your coat then," he said, heading towards the dormitory stairs to get his own. With a heavy sigh that signified her dislike for the idea and her certainty that they were going to get in trouble, Hermione followed him, retrieved her coat, and was only one step behind him as he climbed out through the portrait into the hall outside. They strolled down to the first floor and went out the front doors.

For quite a while, they talked and laughed about all matters of different things from Ron in Romania to Malfoy to Quidditch to the whereabouts of the giant squid during winter. After about twenty minutes had passed, Hermione asked Harry a question.

"So—what's happening, exactly, with you and Cho?"

Harry shrugged. "We broke up last year and haven't really talked since. Why?"

"Just wondering," Hermione said casually, not meeting Harry's inquisitive glance. He grinned and elbowed her.

"Come on, why?"

Hermione shrugged.

"Tell me!"

"I was just _wondering_ ..." said Hermione, and Harry groaned.

"What is this, a conspiracy? If you don't tell me what's going on, I'll be forced into drastic action," he warned jokingly.

Hermione tossed her hair and sniffed, "Like what?"

"Like ... THIS!" Harry crowed, and tackled her to the snowy ground. Hermione shrieked with laughter as he promptly sat on her, and took off his gloves.

"What on _earth_ are you doing?" she asked in mock terror, pretending to tremble with fear. Harry grinned down at her, a malicious glint in his eyes.

"Are you ticklish, Hermione?"

"NO! Oh, don't you DARE, Harry Potter!" she cried, and struggled with all her might to somehow wriggle out from under him, but of course it was no use. She shrieked again and again while laughing helplessly from Harry's merciless tickling.

Finally, Harry let her push him off of her, and they both leapt to their feet, snowballs in hand. They threw snow at each other furiously for a while, and then Harry lunged for her again, sending them both flying into a large snowdrift. They came up gasping for breath and laughing until they nearly cried.

Still chuckling, the two fell back against the snow, exhausted. Harry noticed her give a slight shiver, and pulled her close to his side, rubbing her arms to warm her up. She relaxed after a few seconds, and let her head drop back onto his chest.

"Oh dear—we should head in, it's ten to nine," said Hermione at last.

"Aw, but we're having such great fun," Harry chuckled. Hermione tossed snow in his face, and giggled as he sputtered.

"Come on, we can finish this battle in the morning." The girl got to her feet, stretched, and brushed herself off. With a sigh, Harry followed her example and they walked back to the castle.

As they came into the Entrance Hall, Hermione shivered again, and for the second time, Harry noticed. "Want my coat?" he asked. She shook her head.

"No, thanks."

He looked sideways at her. "Are you sure? It's nice and wet and freezing, the _perfect_ thing to warm you up." Hermione chuckled and rolled her eyes.

"Thank you for your kind offer, but I'm afraid I must decline. You see, to maintain my gorgeous looks—" Harry snorted and she elbowed him "—I must not be wet _or_ freezing, and remain warm and dry to—arrggh!" she cried as Harry tossed the dripping jacket onto her head. She shoved it back at him, and took off up towards Gryffindor tower with Harry right on her heels the whole way.

She skidded to a halt just in front of the Fat Lady. "Jingle bells," Hermione gasped out, and stamped her foot in impatience as the portrait swung slowly open. Harry appeared from around the corner and ran up just as Hermione scrambled in.

"Password?"

"Oh, come _on!_ Jingle bells!" Harry groaned, and the Fat Lady swung forward. He climbed into the still-noisy common room and glanced up just in time to see Hermione disappearing up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.

"Nooooo!" he exclaimed, and heard laughter from the stairs. He grinned and sat himself down on the couch in front of the fire to warm up.

After a few more minutes, the noise level began to die down, and students started to go up to bed for the night. With a heavy sigh, Harry pulled out his blasted Potions essay and started to write.

He wasn't sure what the hour was when the last person left the common room, leaving him alone in the quiet, accompanied only by the crackling fire.

And his homework.

"Harry?"

He looked over his shoulder and saw Hermione standing in the doorway to the dormitory stairs, books and parchment in hand. He grinned.

"Hullo. You coming down, finally?"

"I don't know if I dare," she said, a smile playing about her lips, and Harry patted the seat beside him.

"Oh, come sit," he said, and she complied. "So ... d'you feel like helping me with Potions?" he asked, flashing her a toothy—and rather sheepish—grin.

"There, see? I _told_ you you'd come begging me for help later!"

"Please?"

"No, I've got to finish my own homework as well, you know!"

"Please? Oh, come on, Hermione!"

"NO! I _must_ do this Charms paper, I won't."

"...Please?"

"Harry!"

He laughed and put on a puppy-dog face, sticking out his lower lip ridiculously.

"Look, just because you've got on a pathetic attempt at a cute face does NOT mean, by any stretch of the imagination, that I'll help you! I told you to do it earlier, but you decided to skiv off. You can do your own work for a change."

"Please?"

"_No_."

"You're a right witch, you know that?" Harry said, getting up and going over to the window. He pulled out his wand and leaned out, murmuring something.

"What are you—DON'T YOU _DARE!_" Hermione exclaimed as an oversized ball of snow floated in the window, controlled by Harry's wand. Harry himself was grinning wickedly.

Hermione scrambled to her feet and plunged her hand into her robes to retrieve her wand, but wasn't quite quick enough. The giant snowball fell out of the air and dumped itself directly onto her, soaking her head and upper body. Harry was nearly bent double, laughing.

"You little BEAST!" she cried, shaking her head and showering water droplets all over the carpet in the middle of the room. She got a light in her eye that Harry saw too late. Running up, she threw herself at him.

"Haha—hey!" Harry cried as the force of her crashing into him knocked him over backwards, arms windmilling, and sent them both onto the couch before the fire. Harry landed on his back with Hermione on top of him.

"Great, now I'm all wet too!" he moaned as she laughed.

"That was the plan," teased Hermione, sticking out her tongue and rolling off him. She sat up and started twisting her thick hair between her hands, wringing it out. Harry rolled his eyes.

"THANKS."

"Anytime," she replied sweetly. Harry growled at her, chuckling.

For a while they stayed like that, Harry lying on his back lengthwise on the couch with Hermione sitting up by his legs, and then he remembered something.

"Hey, Hermione—why _was_ it, earlier, that you asked about Cho?"

Hermione frowned for a moment, thinking back. "Oh, _that – _I really was just curious."

"You mean my getting wet was all for nothing!" Harry roared, while Hermione laughed, nodding.

"Yes, entirely in vain. Serves you right."

Harry looked up from his laughter when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. A tired-looking, pyjama-clad Seamus emerged from the boys' dormitories, rubbing his eyes and yawning. His hair was dishevelled and he had only one sock on.

"Oi, d'you know how _loud_ you two are?" he asked sleepily. "Some people are trying to _rest_, you know." He got a better look at the pair of them. "What are you doing, anyway?"

Harry and Hermione looked at him oddly. "What?"

"Why're you all wet?"

They looked at each other and snorted. "It was Harry's fault," giggled Hermione.

"Was not, you started it!"

"How on earth do you justify that?" she asked, looking indignantly at him.

"You wouldn't help me," Harry said stubbornly.

"Right, whoever's fault it was, could you please stop snogging and hesh up?"

There was a two-second pause during which Harry and Hermione registered what their friend had said. They both burst out laughing. "Seamus, you've had a little too much Butterbeer," said Hermione while Harry nodded.

"Me? Kiss Hermione? No _thanks!_" he cracked.

"Oh, _that's_ how it is, is it!" she laughed, and walloped Harry full in the face with a couch pillow. Harry lifted his arms and tickled her everywhere he could reach while his head was still buried under the pillow.

"Would you PLEASE be—oh, forget it," grumbled Seamus, and he turned and walked back up the stairs, shaking his head as the other two battled it out on the couch.


	2. Lesson 2: Finish Your Homework

**Disclaimer: Don't own it, you know it. Why do I have to put in a disclaimer anyway...**

**A/N: Right, second NEW-AND-IMPROVED, REPOSTED REVAMPED REJUVENATED chapter is up! I'm so proud of myself. Hehehe! Sorry it's so short, but I'm working on getting it all out quicklike. I promise to update again soon!**

**Please review, even the shortest are well received!**

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"Hey Hermione, want to come to Hogsmeade with us?"

Hermione looked up.

It was around nine in the morning. A few people were down in the common room already, playing games of wizard's chess, talking quietly, or in Hermione's case, were surrounded by piles of parchment and textbooks. She had her sleeves rolled up past her elbows, had ink stains on her fingers, and a few smudges on her face. Her bushy hair was tied back in a messy ponytail to keep it out of her eyes as she worked on her homework. Lavender and Parvati were standing over her, dressed for the cold outside.

"Well?"

"Uh..." Hermione frowned. Lately these two had been pressing her more and more often to join them in their activities, which included shopping, makeovers, and boys ... all of which things Hermione herself was not particularly interested in. She had always classified those types of goings-on to be silly, and she had never considered herself one to be silly, nor did she want to be. And that was perfectly fine with her.

Now she looked from Lavender to Parvati. "Look, I don't really have time to go today. I got distracted from this last night, and I really want to finish."

The other two girls shared a knowing look. "_Distracted_, hmm?" Lavender asked, a slight smile on her face.

Hermione frowned and raised an eyebrow. "What? I got distracted." The other two glanced at each other again, and Hermione rolled her eyes. "I don't know what you two are on about, but I can't go to Hogsmeade today, I've got to finish my homework," she said, picking up her quill again.

"G' morning, Hermione," came a tired male voice from the stairs. She looked over and smiled gratefully at a yawning Harry.

"Good morning! Sleep well?" she asked, eager to talk to someone other than the two girls before her. Harry nodded sleepily, and stretched as he walked over.

"Slept fine. You're doing _homework?_" he said incredulously, peering over her shoulder at what she was doing. She nodded briskly and straightened a pile of papers.

"Of course I am. There's nothing better to do."

Lavender and Parvati rolled their eyes at each other and flounced off out the portrait hole. _They_ weren't about to sit and wait around for Hermione Granger to finish her homework, when they wanted to go to Hogsmeade. Hermione didn't notice their departure.

"Sure there is. You could be playing a game of wizard's chess with me, for instance," Harry suggested, not noticing the other girls' exit either.

"But I'm horrid at wizard's chess. You know that. And besides, if I get all this done early, I won't have to worry about it later. Like I know _you_ will be, the last night before the holidays finish."

"Aw, come on."

"You _know_ it's true."

"Fine. I'll do all my homework today and get it out of the way, on one condition."

"Why should I agree to any condition? It's not my fault if you—"

"That condition _being_, you help me if I do it all today. Please?"

"Fine. Get your books."

Harry did so.

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Hours passed. The two friends spent them bent over essays, scrolls, and pieces of parchment, up to their ears in books and quills and ink. They took a break for lunch, another break for dinner, and a third one to take a trip down to the kitchens to get hot chocolate from the house-elves as sustainance (Harry's idea). Hermione tried to start talking the bowing elves into demanding pay and sick leave and holidays, but Harry (with Dobby's help) got her out of there before she stirred up trouble and even more resentment towards herself.

At sometime around midnight, Hermione threw down her quill triumphantly and stretched, yawning. "Well, I'm done. How much have you got left?"

"I'm just finishing up Snape's essay...one more half-inch...quick, what's a good concluding statement?"

"'And that concludes my essay on how to make a reviving potion.'"

"Not long enough!"

"'And that concludes my essay which discusses the properties of, and notifies on how to formulate, a reviving potion.'"

"How do you come up with this stuff? On how...to formulate...a reviving...potion. Done!" Harry grinned, putting down his own quill and grinning widely. "Wow. That _is_ a good feeling."

"I told you it's better to get it all done early, I've been saying it for years. It's all Ron's fault that you haven't listened to me. Put the two of you together and suddenly I'm talking to a wall."

"Well, put the two of _you_ together and suddenly I'm talking to an old married couple."

"We do _not_ act like an old married couple. We just have many differences in opinion," Hermione sniffed while Harry guffawed. She rolled her eyes. "I'm going to bed. Tomorrow morning I'm going to sleep in, because I need the extra rest. I've been working too hard lately," she said, yawning again. Harry gaped at her.

"You're _admitting_ that you've been working too much? With Ron gone, everything's turned upside down!"

"Oh, shut up," she replied, sticking her tongue out at him and gathering up her books. "Goodnight."

"'Night, old Mrs Weasley," Harry teased, earning him a whack upside the head and more laughter.

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After he put away his completed homework and dumped his books into the bottom of his trunk, Harry changed into his pyjamas and climbed into bed. Seamus and Dean were still up, talking. When Dean fell asleep, Seamus looked over at Harry, who was still half awake.

"Oi, Harry!"

"Mmm."

"You fancy anyone?"

"No, why?" Harry said sleepily, his words slightly slurred. Seamus came over and sat on the edge of Harry's bed, grinning.

"I've been thinking—everybody fancies someone, and it's been awhile since you and Cho were going."

"Why do you _care?_" Harry groaned, his voice cracking with disuse. Seamus shrugged and resettled his position on Harry's bed.

"Just something someone said. Anyway, have you ever fancied anyone besides her?"

"No, not really."

"Then you wouldn't know it if you did?"

Harry rolled his eyes at his friend. "I think I'd know, thanks," he said, and laid his head back down on the pillow, pulling the covers up to his chin. "G'night."

Seamus was silent for a few seconds, then spoke up. "You spend a lot of time with Hermione Granger, you know."

"Mmm." Harry grunted into his pillow, only half hearing what the other boy was saying.

"Well...?"

"Well _what?_"

"I think you fancy her."

"Do not."

"Aha! Immediate denial. You _do_," Seamus exclaimed gleefully, slapping Harry's leg through the bedspread. "Admit it—you've never fought with her in five and a half years, and you flirt all the time."

"Bug off, Seamus, you've gone and had too much Butterbeer again," Harry grumbled, rolling over and burying his face in the pillow again. "I'm trying to sleep."

"No, honestly, it's my duty to inform you, as your fellow man, that you fancy Hermione Granger."

"But I _don't_."

"Of course you do. Do you not ever _look_ at yourselves? Like last night in the common room, you two were all over each other. And you just spent the entire _day_ with her."

"Yeah, because we're _friends_. Why does nobody get that? You, Cho, Rita Skeeter, and_ Malfoy_, even Viktor Krum back in fourth year—will someone tell me why people keep saying I fancy her when I don't?"

"People keep saying it because you _do_."

"I _don't_."

"Well, believe what you want," Seamus said finally, getting up and crossing over to his own bed. "But just think to yourself—Christmas is coming. Mistletoe is hanging off just about everything that it's possible to hang mistletoe off of. You might want to take advantage of it one day, no?"

Harry shook his head and rolled his eyes, turning over. Seamus was mad, that was the problem here. Seamus and Cho and everybody else were all mad. And that was that. He didn't fancy Hermione. The very idea of it was silly. Honestly, who did they all think they were fooling? All this nonsense about mistletoe and taking advantage and him fancying her...buggers. Especially Seamus. Too much Butterbeer was going to his head. Nutters, the lot of them.

...Weren't they?


	3. Lesson 3: Don't Catch Cold

**Disclaimer: Still own nothing! Except plot. Which has probably been done before. Whatever.**

**A/N: Just a note—further apologies for OOC characters. :( I'm sorry. It's so _hard_ to write previously made-up people accurately! You just can't predict what they'd do in every single situation, so I'll have to go with my instincts here. Don't hate me!**

**Wow. Aren't I the saintly little worker now? I'm updating so fast! I bet you're all impressed. You should be. Lol, I'm kidding, enjoy the third chapter of Winter Break. Oh, right – about the story: I've got the plot all planned out now. The story'll be fourteen chapters long plus an epilogue. That's one chapter for each day of winter break. Whaddya think? Review and let me know:) :kiss kiss: Love you all!**

_**DAY 3**_

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Harry yawned widely. Mmm, warmth. He didn't want to get up. Why should he get up, anyway? Hermione was sleeping in; Ron wasn't there...absolutely no reason at all to get up. No reason at all. No reason at all. No reason at all. No reason at all. Ooh, look at that scrumptious cupcake. Wasn't that odd, that it was hanging in midair? Maybe he should get it and eat it while still in bed. He bet it was nice and warm, right from the oven. Just look at all the icing on it. Probably homemade. Was food cooked by house-elves considered homemade? Maybe. Was he imagining the cupcake? It was likely. After all he was sooooooooooo nice and toasty warm, right from the oven. Wait—he wasn't from the oven, silly! He was flying on the back of his unicorn, of course. And look, there were stars in the sky. No—they were cupcakes! A whole sky full of cupcake stars.

Uh-oh. His unicorn had suddenly turned into a Crumple-Horned Snorgack! What was he to do? Now he was sitting on top of a fiery whirlwind—he supposed that was the Snorgack—but why didn't it have horns? How could a Crumple-Horned Snorgack be hornless? Maybe it was a Hornless Crumple-Horned Snorgack—but that made no sense. Of course it had horns; he was sitting on top of one. Ouch! That hurt. The crumpled horn was quite pointy, really.

"Go 'way...crumple horn snack...leave me 'lone...ow!" Harry mumbled, opening his eyes and looking blearily around. He pulled back the covers, put on his glasses and realized he'd been sleeping on top of his miniature Sneakoscope. Now how on earth had _that_ gotten there? Oh well. He was awake now; he might as well get up.

What day was it? Monday, that was it. Only two more days until Christmas! How wonderful, Harry thought as he got dressed. He looked out the window—it was already bright out. Probably around nine or ten. There was no one else in the dormitory. He bet he'd missed breakfast.

When he walked downstairs to the common room, he found it crowded with people doing all manner of things. Seamus and Dean were talking with Lavender and Parvati on the couches. A bunch of first- and second-years were gathered around Neville and his newest exploding plant. A couple of seventh-years were trying to do homework and yelling at a group of fourth-years playing Exploding Snap. Ginny and Hermione were curled up in chairs before the fire, reading. Harry headed over to say hello.

As he reached them, Ginny glanced up at him. "Morning, Harry," she chirped, and went back to her book. Hermione looked up.

As she smiled at him, Harry, his mind on Seamus' lecture last night, examined himself, and was greatly surprised to find a small, itsy-bitsy, teeny-tiny glow of warmth in the pit of his stomach. It felt strange. He'd never felt a 'glow' before. Well—maybe a couple times when he was around Cho.

Wait.

_Cho?_

But that meant that that was the feeling that he'd gotten when he had a _crush_ on Cho, during fourth and fifth year, and that meant that he was experiencing the same tingly little feeling in his stomach that was somewhat like having some butterflies loose and flapping around in there, and that meant that if he was now having the same feeling as he'd had with Cho, then he must have a _crush_, albeit a small one at this point, on whoever he was looking at or whoever he was thinking of or whoever was smiling at him with those big, chocolate brown eyes!

_What?_

Harry stumbled, tripped over an outstretched table leg that he _swore_ wasn't there a second earlier and nearly fell over, saving himself by grabbing the arm of a comfy chair just in front of him. When he could see straight, he realized that it was Hermione's chair, and that her nose was about three inches away from his. He shoved himself away in a sudden panic, tripped over the same damned table leg, and, arms windmilling, fell over backwards onto the couch, conveniently landing on Dean's arm and earning himself an "Oi! Get off my arm!" Dean pushed him off and Harry lay on the couch, his legs dangling over the arm, staring blankly at the ceiling and asking himself, _Why, why, why?_

"Are you having a bad morning, Harry?" asked a female voice. He recognized that tone. He'd heard it all too many times before. It was the tone of a girl trying valiantly—and failing miserably—not to giggle out loud. His heart sank even lower when he realized that it was _Hermione_ trying not to laugh at him and failing. _Ugh._

"Sorry," he muttered to Dean, turning red. Dean nodded at him and continued talking to Seamus. Harry pulled himself up into a sitting position and looked tiredly at the two girls who were staring and biting their lips, shoulders quivering. "Oh, shut up," he snapped crossly, which set them both off. Harry rolled his eyes at the hooting fifteen- and sixteen-year-olds and decided that what the hell, he might as well laugh it off.

"So, you call this sleeping in, Hermione?" he asked when she'd regained control of herself (Ginny was another matter). "It's only, what, nine o' clock?"

"Actually, it's twelve forty-five, Mister Sleepyhead. You're practically the last one down," she retorted. "You really do need to get that watch fixed. It's been almost two years since it broke."

"Yeah...well..." Harry shrugged. "Can't be bothered, I guess. Plus I have no Muggle money. The last time I got some from the Dursleys was when they sent me fifty pence for Christmas, d'you remember?"

"Yes! What's another gift they've given you—a tissue?"

Harry chuckled. "I think it was used, too." This sent Hermione and Ginny into giggles again. "Lessee...er...one time it was a toothpick...before Hogwarts they gave me an old sock once..." Harry grinned as the girls laughed. He liked making people laugh. And her laugh was so nice, all happy and laughter-full...her eyes sparkled pleasantly when she laughed, had he ever noticed that before...?

They _sparkled!_

Harry shook his head violently. He had to stop thinking these things. It was absolutely, utterly absurd. Abnormal! Why on earth was he even saying it in his head? Thank Merlin he hadn't started muttering them out loud...if he did that, he just might have to throw himself out the window into the snowdrifts four stories below. He'd cover himself with the cold white powder and hide. Two nights ago she'd been covered in snow, too. Where did _that _thought come from? This was absolutely unheard of, abrupt and absurd! Nothing like this had ever happened to him before, and it was verily freaking him out!

That was it. He would stop thinking about her altogether. No thoughts of her at ALL. If he started to, he'd catch himself in the act and stop right then and there. He'd have to find some way to distract himself, though. It would be pretty damn difficult not to think of her while she was sitting two feet away from him, giggling at the odd, spaced-out look on his face.

"Er...what?"

Hermione and Ginny both giggled at that, and Ginny waved her hand in front of his face. "Hello-o-o? Anyone alive in there? I asked you if you'd ever gotten an apple core for a present."

"Oh—no. But I did get a slice of grapefruit once; Dudley wouldn't finish his."

Both girls laughed again. Her shoulders shook, eyes twinkling with mirth, golden brown curls bouncing. She was like a candy: right in front of him, beautiful, unattainable. Now he was writing poetry—

_NO!_

"So, either of you hungry? I'm going to go have some lunch, if you don't mind," said Ginny when she had finished chuckling. Hermione glanced at her.

"You've already eaten."

"I'm hungry again, then!" Ginny grinned, and got to her feet, stretching. "You coming? Harry?" she asked when Hermione shook her head.

"No tha—actually, sure, why not?" Harry said, changing his mind halfway through his sentence and rising to his feet. He had to get out of this room. Her presence was making him crazy, and food would be a welcome distraction. The fact that he was suddenly, inexplicably starving contributed to the fact as well. Ginny smiled.

"See you later, Hermione!" she chirped, and waltzed out through the portrait hole. Harry's ears felt hot as he glanced down at his female best friend, who smiled up at him.

"Bye," she said, and went back to her book.

Harry swallowed and mumbled "Bye," and then hurried off after Ginny. Behind him, Hermione watched him go with a bemused expression on her face, then shook her head and started reading again.

Harry caught up with Ginny in the hall outside the portrait hole, and fell into step beside her. "So...how're you this morning?" he asked after a few seconds of silence.

"Good! It's the third day of winter break, how could anyone be anything less than happy? The morning's clear, the sun is shining, birds are singing, the snow is—"

"What birds?"

Ginny laughed and slapped his arm playfully. "Harry! Why aren't _you_ in a good mood?"

"I am. I just—nothing. Nothing! Why would anything be the matter? Haha...ha...ahem, yes. Anyway, are you sure food will still be in the Great Hall?"

"D'you think they don't remember lazy slugabeds like you?" Ginny asked with a wink, and Harry rolled his eyes. They made their way to the Great Hall in good time, and sat down together at the long Gryffindor table, each loading some pancakes onto their plates, Ginny drizzling hers generously with syrup. They chatted away easily for about half an hour, then Ginny went back upstairs while Harry took this opportunity to go outside alone and think.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets and not bothering to go get a jacket – the day was cool, but not cold—Harry wandered out the front doors and allowed his feet to take him wherever they wished. After a few minutes he found himself looking up at the Whomping Willow, its gnarly and knotted branches looking very stiff and heavy under layers of snow, icicles hanging from underneath them. His eyes began to sting from the cold. He remembered the time he'd first laid eyes on the huge tree—just before his second school year started, he and Ron had flown Ron's father's turquoise Ford Anglia into it and nearly got stuck in the branches before the tree decided to dump them out on their ends.

Harry sniffed—he must have caught that cold from Neville. His eyes stung even worse. He blinked rapidly, trying to get moisture into them.

In his third year, he, Ron and Hermione had gone into the secret passage underneath its roots and learned the reality of his parents' death. They had also discovered Harry's godfather, Sirius Black, there. Sirius soon became the closest thing to a father that Harry had ever had. Always there for him, helping him through hard times, giving him advice whenever he needed it, always sticking up for him, a solid presence that Harry had come to count on over the two years that followed. At the end of fifth year, Sirius had been murdered by Bellatrix Lestrange, his own cousin, a Death Eater.

Harry's eyes stung so badly he had to rub them with his hands. The cold was suddenly so unbearable.

Standing here, remembering the first time he saw Sirius, remembering the fight in the Shrieking Shack with Remus Lupin, Snape, himself, Sirius, Ron and Hermione; standing right here, at the foot of where it all began...and to know now that it was all over, that Sirius would never see daylight again, that he had died in a room with no windows...to know that he was not coming back again...

Harry looked up and realized he was kneeling on the ground, sunk into the snow, not feeling the cold at all. He stared at the ground, unblinking, letting the inexplicable tears slide out of his eyes and fall slowly down his cheeks, leaving freezing trails of cold on his skin. He didn't know how long he sat there in the snow, remembering; tear after slow, reluctant tear coursing down his face.

* * *

A hand on his shoulder made him jump. "Are you all right?"

Harry blinked twice, then rubbed his face furiously on his sleeve and looked around at the speaker. Of course, it couldn't be _anyone_ else that found him like this, sitting in the snow, the most vulnerable he'd felt in years.

Hermione's kind, worried brown eyes looked down at him, warmth emanating from her hand and spreading into his shoulder, making him realize just how cold he actually was. No words were needed. She sank down beside him, not caring about getting cold or wet, and hesitantly put her arms around him. Despite his current mood, Harry felt the jump of butterflies in his stomach as she did so. He ignored the feeling and let her hold him, staring back at the ground again. They must have sat there for at least half an hour, for all he knew, her arms around him, holding him against her, neither of them saying a word. He bit his lip constantly, knowing that if he let his guard down he would start crying silently again, and that would not do. He should be happy, the silly clod that he was; he was alone with her, after all, and she was hugging him, and she was nice and warm, and she smelled good, like vanilla and strawberries—

_Stoppit!_

He was doing it again! How did it happen? It just snuck up on him until he was sitting in a daze, thinking about her and her scent and NO! He had to snap himself out of it somehow. He had to say something to break the silence because if he didn't he'd just keep on daydreaming about her and the butterflies would flutter about annoyingly and his head would implode on itself from stress—

"You okay now?"

Harry mentally whacked himself in the forehead and looked at Hermione. He nodded, not trusting his voice. She smiled and got to her feet, brushed off the snow and offered him a hand up, which he took. "Thanks," he croaked finally, and then swallowed. She smiled warmly and hugged him again. He put his arms around her and looked up. It had just started to snow. When she pulled away they walked back to the castle together in peaceful silence, catching snowflakes on their tongues.

* * *

"_There_ you are! I've been looking for you two for ages," exclaimed Ginny, coming over to them as they entered through the portrait hole. "Hermione, you _have_ to read this book! I just finished it and it was _such_ a good read, omigod you simply _must_ try it!"

"Okay, okay!" Hermione laughed and took the book from the younger girl as Harry went to sit in front of the fire and warm up. "Listen, can I talk to you?"

"Sure," said Ginny, and the two went up the stairs to the girls' dorms, leaving Harry on the couch, contemplating the cold and his supposed crush on Hermione which of course, did not exist. Seamus had filled his head with silly ideas last night when he was muddled and sleepy, and so of course today he would be all confused. It made sense when you thought about it properly.

The day passed quietly from then on. A few rounds of Exploding Snap with Seamus and Dean weren't out of the question. He played wizard's chess with Neville. Anything to get his mind off of her. Not that his mind was _on_ her. Which it wasn't. He wasn't thinking about her at all. Not one little bit. And as he wasn't thinking about her, she couldn't distract him from anything. Not one little—

"Damn!"

He'd lost the game.


	4. Lesson 4: Fly Your Broom

**Disclaimer: Bah.**

**A/N: Okay, I have the plot, but no filler material for the next three chapters! Arrggh! If you have any ideas at all that you want to happen in this story THAT DO NOT AFFECT THE MAIN PLOT, like for example someone to pull a certain prank on a Slytherin (deepest apologies to all Slytherin fans out there :wink:), or anything at all for Harry to be doing over his holidays, I would absolutely love to hear them. Because although he is preoccupied, his life doesn't circulate around dear 'Mione. He does do other things too! I just need to figure out WHAT...**

**Thank you all for the reviews, I LOVE every one of you to death:D And I hope you know it. Just for those who aren't sure – yes, this is definitely Harry/Hermione. I'm planning on keeping it mostly fluffy and funny, with much less angsty stuff.**

**Note—if anyone noticed, in this story I placed Ginny still in Hogwarts while Ron is in Romania. Mr and Mrs Weasley decided Ron would get a trip this year, and Ginny would get one next year. Ginny was indignant at first, but grudgingly accepted the fact.**

**So—what do you all think about the fourteen chapter, one-per-day-of-winter-break thing? PLEASE review and let me know, I'm dying to hear from you. Enjoy! Love you guys:kiss kiss: Ciao!**

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"So what you're saying is that I fancy her."

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

"But it makes no _sense_."

"Sure it does. Friends get crushes on other friends all the time."

"It's so cliché."

"Harry, Harry, Harry...your whole _life_ is a cliché."

And now that he thought about it, it was.

Harry was sitting across the table from Seamus at breakfast. He wasn't feeling very well—probably because, like an idiot, he sat outside in the snow for about an hour yesterday. He stared at his plate, pushing the food around on it with his fork. It was bacon and eggs today, among other things. As a certain female entered the Great Hall, Harry suddenly became very interested in his oh-so-delightful bacon and eggs. They were nice and crispy, the way he liked them, and the eggs were sunny-side-up. He knew how to make those. Fifteen years of living with and cooking for the Dursleys had taught him some handy recipes (the wankers always demanded variety and quality). Harry could _feel_ Seamus grin as he caught sight of Hermione.

"Well, well, look who it is," he said, leaning back from the table and grinning wickedly.

"It'll pass, it'll pass, it'll pass..." Harry muttered to himself as she drew nearer.

"Nope, actually, looks like she's gonna sit down _right_—"

"I meant the crush thing!"

"Oh. Well, it might take a while. You're pretty far gone, mate. G' morning, Hermione!" said Seamus cheerfully as she sat down next to Harry, flicking a wisp of hair out of her eyes and reaching for a piece of toast.

"Good morning, Seamus, Harry. Who's far gone?" she asked as she spread on some jam and poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice.

"Harry is," snickered Seamus. Harry looked up and glared at him warningly. Hermione turned to look at him in open curiosity. He shook his head.

"No I'm not, Seamus is just a git."

"An _all-knowing _git."

"A stupid git. Excuse me, will you? I'm not feeling so well," said Harry, and he promptly stood up and exited the Great Hall.

"Where're you going, Harry?" he heard Hermione call after him, but he just raised a hand without turning around. He knew he _had_ to get his mind off of things. Everywhere he went something reminded him of _her_, and he needed to get away from that or he would certifiably explode.

Stomping up the stairs from the common room to the boys' dormitories, Harry growled under his breath at the audacity of Seamus. How dare he almost come out and _say_ it, right in front of her! Honestly, the nerve of that boy. Harry abruptly turned and slammed his forehead against the cold stone wall—now he sounded like an old grandmother, cursing a rude teenager. He sighed heavily. Continuing on up the stairs until he reached the sixth level, he thought hard about what he could do to stop himself thinking about Hermione. Really, it was getting slightly out of hand. He'd never been quite _this_ preoccupied about Cho. But then, Cho wasn't one of his best friends whom he had known for five and a half years (wow, that was a long time, now he thought of it) and she wasn't constantly around him.

When he reached the dorm, he flopped down onto his bed and stared up at the dark red canopy above him. He pondered the concept of going back to sleep, but decided that he'd probably end up dreaming about her. Well, not dreaming _about_ her—dreaming dreams that happened to include her but did not specifically _feature_ her, yes.

Sleep was out of the question. What else could he do that didn't involve thinking?

He watched as the light bulb clicked itself on over his head.

Swinging his legs over onto the floor, Harry grabbed his coat and gloves, and opened his trunk at the foot of his bed. Lifting out the Firebolt, he shut the trunk again and headed quickly out of the dorm, down the stairs, and out through the portrait hole. When he got outside he shrugged into his coat, slipped on the gloves, and mounted the broom, kicking off immediately and flying in the direction of the Quidditch pitch.

Zooming around the field, he felt his body leave his thoughts behind and concentrate on soaring over the stands through the biting air. It really had been too long since he'd been on his broom; there were no Quidditch matches over the holidays, and flying was one of the only things he liked doing that didn't involve much mind power other than basic instincts.

He barrel-rolled all the way down the length of the pitch, then righted himself, feeling a bit dizzy, and swerved to the left to circle the goalposts. After about fifteen minutes of flying he thought he saw someone walking towards the stands, and flew down to see who it was. When he reached the spot he'd seen them there was no one. Shrugging, he took off again, only to jump in surprise when another Gryffindor on a broom whizzed past him. Ginny laughed at the look on Harry's face and turned her broom around to face him.

"Don't look so gobsmacked, Harry, you're not the only one who's missed it," she winked. "I couldn't stand staying on the ground any longer when I saw you out the window."

"Heh, yeah. Being out here doesn't help the cold, though."

"Since when have you cared about cold?"

"Since...uh...I don't feel well."

"Why on earth are you out here, then?" Ginny laughed, sticking out her tongue at him and zooming off. Harry rolled his eyes and rocketed after her, letting her stay just a broom's length ahead of him as he chased her around and around the pitch, ducking under the stands and hurtling around the goalposts. Once Ginny lay flat on her broom and actually went through a hoop, then shrieked with delight and did it again. "Go on, Harry, give it a go!" she called. "Just hug your broom and fly straight!"

"Yeah, right. You're smaller than I am, I won't fit through."

"You'll never know until you try!"

Harry sighed heavily, turned his broom around and faced the goalposts. Ginny cheered him on as he leaned down as far as he could and shot forward. He grinned, coming out the other side without a scratch and whirling to chase her again when another person on the ground caught his eye. Squinting, he tried to see who it was, and flew down, slowly this time so as not to lose sight of them. The bushy brown hair and the heavy book—even on holidays—gave them away. Harry pulled up abruptly and groaned to himself. _WHY?_

Hermione smiled and waved up at him, sitting herself in the stands and taking out what looked like a packed breakfast of toast and a banana. Harry reluctantly lifted his hand in greeting, then turned to fly back over to Ginny and discovered that she'd been right behind him. He nearly fell off his broom in surprise.

"Whassamatter? You look like someone just told you Christmas was cancelled."

"Nope, I'm fit as a fiddle and ready to fly! On three, one—two—three!" Harry chirped, forcedly cheerful, and Ginny took off again, laughing. They played tag for another twenty minutes while Harry kept telling himself that he wasn't preoccupied with the person sitting in the stands. He told himself this about every thirty seconds. Thinking about a person every thirty seconds qualifies as being preoccupied with them. Of course Harry, being Harry, didn't think of this, and so was a bit preoccupied as Ginny caught and tagged him for the millionth time.

"Harry, you've got one of the fastest brooms in the world. How come I keep catching you? Are you _letting_ me win!" she cried in mock outrage. Harry shook his head. "Then what? You seem preoccupied."

"I'm _not!_ I just...didn't eat breakfast."

"But I saw you in the Great Hall."

"I didn't eat anything, just poked at it."

"Why?"

"Wasn't hungry. And I'm not feeling well."

"You are perfectly fine, Mr Potter, stop pretending to be an invalid when you're out here chasing people on flying broomsticks."

"_You_ started it."

"I most certainly did not!"

"Did too. Ah, I'm tired, think I'll head in."

"Oh, come on," Ginny protested as she followed him down to the ground. "I was just getting going, aren't you having fun?"

Harry landed and tucked his broom under his arm, sighing as Ginny did the same and fell into step beside him. He raked his tangled hair back out of his eyes. It was getting long; he might have to cut it soon. Not himself—he'd get a professional to do it. The last time he attempted to cut his own hair, he'd been unable to cut evenly, got angry, forgone the scissors, tried to curse it off using his wand, and ended up with a largish chunk of it missing off the side of his head. Hermione had had to fuss over it for a good hour to get it fairly even afterwards. Harry chuckled aloud at the memory.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. Why're you following me?"

Ginny blinked. "No reason, I just have nothing else to do. Why are you in such a bad mood, Harry? Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't _seem_ fine," she persisted.

Harry sighed heavily. "Look, I'm just not feeling well."

"You've been acting weird lately, all jumpy and discombobulated. Are you sure you don't—"

"Ginny! I'm _fine!_"

She stopped short, her long red hair stirring around her pretty face. Harry turned to snap at her and noticed the hurt in her eyes. They stood there glaring stubbornly at each other for a good thirty seconds. A cold breeze came up, stinging their cheeks. Everything was quiet aside from their breathing.

Finally Harry spoke, in a low voice. "I don't feel well. The only reason I came out here was so that I could stop thinking about certain—ugh, nevermind. Will you just please leave me alone?"

There was another longish pause; then Ginny, swallowing hard against what sounded like a lump in her throat, said, "I only wanted to help. It might do you some good to let down your defences a little, Harry. You're being a right ass." With that, she turned on her heel and stomped away through the snow towards the castle, the fist clenched around her broom conveying her anger.

"What defences!" Harry called after her indignantly, and received only her back in reply. He groaned to himself and covered his eyes with his free hand, rubbing his temples. A few seconds later he heard footsteps approaching from behind. Knowing who it must be, he tried to quench the advancing nervous butterflies (to no avail) and turned around to face her when he judged her to be a few feet away.

"Did you two just have a fight?" Hermione asked, concern evident in her tone and on her face. She was carrying a thick, heavy-looking book under her arm—Harry couldn't see the title. The wind had picked up a touch, and kept blowing a stray stubborn lock of hair into her eyes. She tucked it behind her ear several times before giving up and letting it go where it would. Harry shrugged in response to her question.

"I dunno. She's mad at me, I don't think that makes it a proper fight, but..."

"You look upset. Are you alright?" she asked, tilting her head a little and squinting up at him through the wind. He nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

"Good," she said simply, and treated him to a crooked little smile. The small globe of tension that had been building itself up in the pit of his stomach over the past two days began to melt a bit around the edges. Harry smiled and opened his mouth to say something, but then realised that he hadn't thought of anything to say. After a second or two of staring at her, gaping like a fish, Hermione giggled, and they both started laughing.

"So what were you two talking about?" she asked when they were done. Harry shrugged as they both turned to the castle and slowly started making their way towards it through the snow.

"She was just asking what was wrong, like you. Apparently I don't look my best today...anyway, she kept on pestering me about it, wouldn't bug off, so I got fed up and snapped at her. D'you think she'll be very mad?"

"Depends on what you said. Did you call her anything?"

"No, just told her to bug off. Well I didn't actually _say_ 'bug off', but I said to leave me alone. Please."

It started snowing gently. Hermione shook her head. "Ginny can be sensitive at times. She's quite the complex little thing."

"She's not so little anymore," Harry said absently. Hermione glanced at him and raised her eyebrows.

"Oh?" she teased, a grin playing about her lips. "Looking at our friend's younger sister in a new light, these days?"

"_No_, not her," he retorted without thinking, then quickly turned his head straight in front of him and forced himself not to breathe any harder. He swallowed, the movement grating his suddenly dry throat. Beside him, Hermione was grinning widely.

"Oh, _really?_" she said, mischievous delight plain in her voice. Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd heard that tone come out of her mouth. It might have been that same time he'd remembered earlier—the time he'd shown up at the bottom of the girls' dormitory stairs with a towel over his head, asking pathetically for her assistance—and for a good pair of scissors. Yes...she had thoroughly enjoyed the moment when she made him pull off the towel and saw the state of disrepair that his hair was in. The bugger.

"Sp-speaking of which, hey, I need to get my hair cut, don't you think?" Harry stammered, failing miserably to distract her.

"Actually, you were just going to tell me who you fancy, as I recall, Harry. DO go on," she urged cheerfully, the biggest smile he'd seen in a long time all over her face. Harry inwardly cursed his thoughtless tongue a hundred times, then shrugged as nonchalantly as he could.

"Fancy? I don't fancy anyone. Do _you_ fancy anyone?"

"No," she said quickly, and to his immense surprise, looked down at the snow and blushed.

"You're blushing," he commented, bewildered.

"No, I'm not—it's just the cold," she maintained stubbornly, and looked up to meet his eyes as if to prove it. After a moment they both turned their gazes straight ahead and walked stiffly in awkward silence. Every few seconds Harry would glance down at her to his left, then look back at the castle. Once in a while he'd catch her glancing at him at the same time, and both pairs of eyes would quickly dart back ahead of them. The third time this happened, they both spontaneously burst out laughing and didn't stop for a good, long while.

"I'll tell if you'll tell," she offered.

"_I_ won't tell."

"Then I won't tell."

"I won't tell either."

"Well then neither of us will tell."

"Alright then."

"Alright."

They both laughed again, and changed the subject. After a few more minutes of dawdling and meandering around in the snow, they found themselves at the castle entrance. Harry shook his head to get rid of the layer of snowflakes that had accumulated in his hair, and tossed it back out of his eyes. He was reminded a third time of how long it was getting. "I really do need to cut it," he said, half to himself. Hermione tilted her head and looked at him.

"I don't know, I kind of like it this length."

"You certainly didn't have anything against cutting it the last time," Harry grinned wryly.

"Well if you hadn't tried to curse it all off, I wouldn't have had to make it so short," she rebutted, laughing. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, right. You had way too much fun with my misfortune."

"It was entirely your own fault, and you know it," she said, sticking out her tongue. Suddenly she reached out and touched a lock of his hair, twirling it between her fingers. Harry's breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding a mile a minute. Little sounds around them—dull chatter from the Great Hall inside, the whistling of the wind around them—faded to silence for a few seconds. He couldn't meet her eyes. After an eternity of adrenaline, Hermione smiled and dropped her hand. "I like it longer."

"Then longer it stays," Harry agreed instantly. "I don't want something like last time to happen again, anyway."

She chuckled and turned to go inside. When she had disappeared through the castle doors, Harry took in a deep, somewhat raggedy breath, shook his head at his own predicament, and followed her in.


End file.
